To Hell and Back
by angellwings
Summary: [one shot] [lyatt] [post 2.12] It was just her, her boyfriend (was that the right title for Wyatt? It felt inadequate), and the ghost of the mother she never really knew. Welcome back to the real world, Lucy Preston.


**A/N: **Here is another prompt fic from that game I play on twitter. I had three prompts to incorporate. This one turned out way different than I imagined. Based on my prompts I decided on the concept of "First night outside of the bunker" and it went zero to angsty REAL FAST. But the more I wrote the more I enjoyed this. Parts of it were cathartic and other parts were soft and sweet and gave my OTP some lovely quiet moments. Hopefully you guys like this one too.

Happy reading!

Angellwings

PS - see the note at the end for the prompts. Also I did not proofread this. Please forgive typos lol.

* * *

To Hell and Back

By angellwings

* * *

"Smoke was coming off my jacket,

And you didn't seem to mind.

I left a long trail of ashes,

And you said, 'I like your style.'

Now heartbreak ain't a competition,

But I took in a landslide.

The skeletons I wanted to bury,

You like out in the light."

-"To Hell and Back", Maren Morris

* * *

Homeland Security Agents dropped them off at her mother's house — well, she supposed it was her house now. Not that she wanted it. Wyatt closed the SUV door behind them, thanked the agents and then they were gone.

It was just her, her boyfriend (was that the right title for Wyatt? It felt inadequate), and the ghost of the mother she never really knew.

Welcome back to the real world, Lucy Preston.

She spent the last couple of days in a post-victory bunker bubble with Wyatt, Rufus, and Jiya. The bubble was now officially burst.

Wyatt remained quiet as he stood next to her on the front walk. She felt his worried gaze on her every few moments. Her keys were in her hand but she couldn't bring herself to walk down the path and insert the key in the lock. She just couldn't.

"The last memories I have of this place revolve around me fighting for my life and losing," Lucy admitted with a thick swallow. "I remember knocking a wine bottle off the counter as I ran. Do you know what my mother said after the bottle hit the floor? Just a quick and casual 'what a waste of good wine' as if she wasn't calling in her henchman to drag me away. As if I'd just accidentally knocked it off the counter while we were making dinner."

She felt Wyatt's hand wrap around hers, tightly and wholly.

"We don't have to do this now. We can wait," Wyatt told her as he squeezed her hand. "You can come help me air out my old place, instead."

"Putting it off won't change the memories, Wyatt."

"No," he agreed. "But it might mean they're less fresh. Lucy, we were _just_ dropped off in the real world. It would be perfectly okay if you needed some time before diving into this."

"Why can't I hate her?" Lucy asked him. "Wouldn't that make things so much easier?"

"You would think," Wyatt replied with a sigh. "But it doesn't."

She went quiet again and Wyatt used his hold on her hand to pull her into his side. "Come on, Professor, let's call an Uber and go to my place. Take the night and regroup. We can come back tomorrow whenever you're ready."

"And you won't let me chicken out again?" She asked as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"Never again."

"You promise?" Lucy asked him with a wary glare.

He nodded and placed a kiss against the crown on her head. "I promise."

She nodded but didn't dare speak. She couldn't put a voice to the fact that she wasn't ready to face her mother and Rittenhouse again so soon after defeating them. He was right, she needed time, but it still felt like cowardice.

A flash of Amy standing worriedly on the front stoop as Kondo led her away hit her strong and fast and with it came a wave of grief larger than any she'd felt since she made her decision. It threatened to drown her. She closed her eyes tight to stop the tears and released Wyatt's hand to bring both of hers to cover her face.

She felt like crumbling to the ground right then and there.

That's when it hit her, there was more in that house then the ghost of her mother. Amy's ghost might live there too. And somehow that ghost is more terrifying than her mother's. Lucy is her mother's biggest failure, but Amy…

Amy is _Lucy's_ biggest failure.

"Lucy?" Wyatt asked worriedly.

She felt his arm tighten around her waist and with that gesture she realized that Wyatt was the only thing keeping her upright. Her knees had buckled in the midst of her despair. If not for Wyatt, she'd be a weeping mess in the middle of the driveway.

She quickly composed herself as best as possible and met his clear eyes with her red rimmed ones.

"Get me out of here, Wyatt. Please."

He nodded dutifully and led her further up the street to wait on the ride he requested. Just far enough to keep the house out of site. He kept a tight hold on her the entire time. Offering her support but never attempting to pry.

It was exactly what she needed. It mystified her that he just seemed to _know_. God, she loved him. She loved him more than she ever thought possible.

The car arrived and they rode in the back in silence. She stayed tucked into Wyatt's side with his arm around her waist for the entire trip. He would occasionally place a kiss to the top of her head or her temple to let her know he was there if she needed him. His silent strength brought her more comfort than he probably knew.

Getting from the car to his apartment door was a blur. She was still in her head about her mother and Amy and the house that held memories of both as he slid the key in the deadbolt.

It was the wafting scent of stale air that finally brought her back to the present. When she finally took in his apartment, though, it didn't look so bad. In fact, it looked a little too clean.

Wyatt's brow furrowed and she wondered if he noticed the same faint lemon scent she did. "Christopher must have sent someone to clean the place. I was imagining a lot more dust."

Lucy let out a light chuckle and nodded. "And maybe some cobwebs for the full abandoned effect."

Despite the cleanliness, it still felt like a window to the past. They were glimpsing a time when Mason Industries was their headquarters, Rittenhouse was just a whisper in the dark, and Jessica was still a victim of a tragic accident.

There was a Mason Industries notepad on the kitchen counter with a message scribbled on it, a picture of Wyatt and Jessica on the coffee table, and a Bowie knife in a glass display case hanging on the wall. Wyatt's gaze settled on the picture of Jessica with a sigh.

Her house wasn't the only place that felt haunted. He shut the door behind them and then rushed forward to grab the frame. Before Lucy could say a word, he'd tossed it angrily into the trash can under his kitchen sink.

"You don't know that she was always Rittenhouse, Wyatt. She may not have been in our original timeline."

He dropped his bag with a loud thud and huffed. "Do we even know what the original timeline was anymore? Mason had a time machine, years before we showed up, with Emma at the helm. How do we know they weren't toying with the timeline all along?"

He had a point. It was terrifying to think they may not be able to trust their own memories.

She nodded and sighed. "The past is much more complicated than I thought it was while I was living it." She dropped her bag too and then stepped into his space so she could wrap her arms around him. "Turns out, even fewer of my decisions were my own than I originally thought and my mother was never the woman I thought she was. So, I get it. I get how betrayed that can make a person feel. I just hate that all of this might tarnish memories that were once good ones, you know?"

He breathed deeply and then kissed her forehead. "We'll make new memories," he assured her. "Better ones."

"Still, I think maybe you shouldn't let what Rittenhouse did to Jessica effect memories of your Jessica. We have no way of knowing if she was always working for Rittenhouse," Lucy told him as she soothingly ran a hand across his cheek.

"We have no way of knowing that she wasn't," he countered.

She didn't have a reply for that. He was right. For all they knew the Jessica that worked with Rittenhouse was the Jessica Wyatt had known most of his life. There was a chance she wasn't but was it better to cling to that chance or just let those memories go? She had the same struggle with her mother. Did she let go of the memories she had cherished of her mother and accept the fact that she never knew her? Or did she choose to believe that some part of her mother was actually who she pretended to be?

There were no easy answers — no ready made solutions. They were once again in the middle of uncharted territory.

He stepped away from her to inspect what remained in his pantry and his fridge which was nothing but spices and a few cans of soup.

"Probably need to go to the store at some point today," Wyatt said before he flashed her a rueful smirk. "Hope my bank account's still open."

Lucy laughed softly and then picked up her bag again. She pointed down the darkened hallway. "Bedroom?"

He nodded but suddenly looked a bit sheepish. "Yeah, but, uh—let me...I just need to check…**.**" His sentence trailed off as he quickly walked down the hall and peeked in his bedroom door. He let out a huff and Lucy noticed a tired shadow pass over his face. He turned to look at her with a wince. "So, before you come back here, I just want to warn you...I sort of had a— well I guess you'd call it a murder board? About Jessica." He paused to look down at his shoes and scratch the back of his neck. "And it managed to survive the timeline changes—"

She placed herself in front of him and used a hand under his chin to bring his gaze up to meet hers, cutting off the impending apology she saw in his expression. "You were investigating her murder for a long time, Wyatt. I remember all of that. It's okay."

"I know, it's just we went through a lot because of her and, if you think about it, it wasn't that long ago and I just...I want to move past it and I want you to be comfortable," he admitted with a nervous gulp as he covered her hand with his.

"We are moving past it, but it's not going to be an immediate fix. It's going to take time and it won't be easy. Comfortable may not be achievable right out of the gate, Soldier," she told him with a warm smile. "But we'll get there."

He nodded and then smiled slowly as he squeezed her hand that he held in his. "You're right." He playfully rolled his eyes at her with a breathy chuckle. "As usual."

He stepped aside and pushed the bedroom door open for her. She took in a deep steadying breath as the board came into view. Jessica had been dealt with, she knew, but if she hadn't then this would have encouraged Lucy to do it herself.

Every shred of information about Jessica's murder was on this board. Including articles that implicated Wyatt. The idea that Wyatt had lived with guilt over her for so many years and then she turned out to manipulate and use him caused Lucy's blood to boil in her veins. Wyatt's honor and loyalty was used against him in the worst way. The very things that attracted Lucy to him were twisted into weaknesses.

And now _she_ wanted to throw all of Jessica's photos in the garbage too. She regretted trying to defend her at all.

"First things first," Wyatt said through a tense jaw as he glared at the board. "We get rid of all of it. The clippings, the board, every last trace of it."

Lucy nodded her agreement and spoke through gritted teeth. "Happy to help. Where do we start?"

"I don't give a shit, just start ripping," Wyatt sneered.

"You first," Lucy said as she motioned to the board. It was only right.

He stepped forward and stared for a moment before reaching for the top left corner where the original article was pinned and ripped straight down, swiftly and furiously. Thumb tacks and red twine flew over Lucy's head and fell to the floor just below the board all at once.

Wyatt dropped the ripped papers on the floor and then smirked in satisfaction. "God, that felt good."

"Yeah?" Lucy asked him. "What did it feel like?"

Wyatt turned his head and smiled at her with bright, hopeful eyes. "Like the open road."

Lucy grinned at him as she recognized his words. "That good, huh?"

"Try it and find out for yourself," Wyatt said as he swept a hand across the remaining articles.

"Don't mind if I do," Lucy replied eagerly and she reached for the articles on the opposite corner that questioned Wyatt's innocence. She pulled straight downward just like Wyatt had. She pulled as far as she could in one long strip of articles and pictures. He was right. That felt _amazing_ — like breaking all the chains that held them back and freeing themselves of the shackles Jessica's ghost had placed on them. It felt like the whole world laid at their feet, just waiting for them.

Just as Wyatt said, _the open road_.

The open road away from Jessica, anyway.

It didn't take much longer for the rest of the "evidence" to end up in the floor too. They shoved the scraps in a trash bag along with snapped twine and broken thumb tacks and then walked it to the trash chute together.

All in all, it was one of the most cathartic experiences of her life. It must have been for Wyatt as well because the minute he dropped that trash bag down the chute he seemed lighter. His posture relaxed and the angry lines on his face faded. What remained was _relief_. _Liberation_. And, when his eyes finally found hers again, _love_.

He took a deep cleansing breath and then wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her chest against his. "I needed that."

"I think we both did," she told him as she rested her head on his shoulder.

Even his breathing sounded..._easier_, she thought as she felt the even rise and fall of his chest against her cheek. His muscles were relaxed as well and she wondered if the same sort of weightlessness awaited her once she dealt with her mother's house. Was it possible for the sins of her mother _not_ to leave an aching pressure in her chest?

Wyatt kept one arm around her as they walked back toward his apartment door. The apartment felt like a completely different place upon crossing the threshold a second time. Even the lack of personal effects and photos felt less oppressive than the reminders of Jessica that were there before.

"Okay, I think I'm going to go to the store. Maybe pick up some take out on my way back?" He asked her, a new brightness in his eyes. "Any requests?"

"No sandwiches or Spaghetti-Os. Otherwise, surprise me," she told him with a chuckle.

"You got it," he said as he pressed a quick kiss to her lips. He stepped into the kitchen and found his keys in a dish on the counter. He held them up to show her and grinned. "My car's still here. God, I missed driving. I'll be back in hour, two tops. Shouldn't take me long. Make yourself at home, okay?"

She nodded and waved him out the door. His eyes looked concerned for a moment before she smiled affectionately at him. "Go, I'll be fine."

And she was. She used his shower which was far and away an improvement over the grungy bunker bathroom. She brought his bag back into the bedroom with hers when she realized it was still sitting where he dropped it in the middle of the living room. She changed into a pair of sweats she stole from Wyatt months ago, when she first arrived at the bunker and then took a moment to sit on his bed with her thoughts.

Where did they go from here? Obviously, she would have to deal with the house, but what then? Wyatt had his job with Homeland Security. Rufus and Jiya had decided to start their own company. What about her? What did she want?

She could go back to Stanford, but that didn't feel quite right. Not to mention, her mother was still considered the bedrock of their history department. Still honored amongst her colleagues who had no idea who she really was. Everywhere she went she would have to deal with condolences or people who wanted to reminisce. Was she ready for that? Besides that, Stanford was her mother's dream for her. Stanford had never been Lucy's first choice. Lucy spent her life being the good daughter, never disappointing her mother if she could help it. She no longer had to do that.

So, _what now_?

She had time to decide, she supposed. Christopher promised them backpay and hazard pay for their time fighting Rittenhouse, plus if she sold her mother's house that would be more than enough cushion to fall back on. There was no need to decide right _now_. Most important now was finding a way to move on, like Wyatt had done tonight. She needed real closure, a chance to say goodbye.

She could only find that by facing her mother's ghost - Amy's too.

The front door opened and closed and she heard Wyatt call out to let her know he was home. That's what he'd said too. He'd used that word exactly. _Home. _And now her thoughts spun off on an entirely different track.

Where was she going to live? Certainly not in her mother's house and she wasn't sure she and Wyatt were really prepared for cohabitation this soon. Sure, they shared the bunker, but they shared it with other people. (Including his formerly dead wife.) It was different.

She must have taken more time to think after he walked through the door than she thought because suddenly Wyatt appeared in the bedroom doorway, concerned cobalt gaze intently focused on her.

"You with me, Professor?" He asked softly as he leaned against the doorframe.

She shook herself of her thoughts and then turned a wan smile on him. "I'm here. Just thinking."

"Care to share?" He asked as he stepped into the room and sat down on the bed next to her.

"What's next?" She asked. More to herself than to him. "For me, I mean? What do I do? Where do I live? What do I want? I—I'm not even sure I know the answers to _any_ of those questions. I feel like...like I'm starting over, completely from scratch."

"Well," he said as he leaned back on his heels and stretched his legs out in front of him. "You are. You're living for yourself now. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I...I get the impression you've never really done that before. Your decisions are just that — yours."

"That's slightly terrifying," she admitted. "What if I don't know what I want or who I want to be?"

"You do," he told her as he nudged her shoulder and smiled at her encouragingly. "You know both of those things. You just need to give yourself some time to remember. And as for where you live...you're welcome to stay here as long as you want. You don't have to. Trust me, after the bunker I would understand if you wanted your own space, but if you decide you want to then the offer's out there. I'm ready for it when you are."

"Really?" She asked with a wary glance.

He nodded. "I told you. I want to move forward. I want _us _to move forward. But only when you're ready for that too. We've been through a lot in a short amount of time. I get it if you need time to breathe. No pressure. The ball's entirely in your court, ma'am."

She chuckled and then leaned back on her hands and mimicked his pose by stretched her legs out beside of his. "My court, huh? It might be a little while before I have any sort of decision on that, you know."

"I can wait," he said as he slid his hand to cover one of hers. "However long you need. I messed this up once. I'm not doing that again. I want _you_. I love _you_. So, I'll wait."

"Simple as that?" She asked with a small grin.

He gave her a lopsided smile and lifted one shoulder. "Simple as that. Besides, we never really got to do the dating thing like we should have. Maybe this is my chance to actually do this _right_."

She chuckled and laid back on his mattress. "Like normal people, you mean? The kind of people who have no idea time travel is possible or that our government has been controlled by an insane cult from it's very founding? Like those people?"

He settled next to her and then rolled onto his side with a playful smirk. "Exactly like those people. Like what would have happened if we'd met in a bar or through friends — or one of those dating apps."

She laughed and turned to face him. "A dating app? You wouldn't be caught dead on a dating app. And what mutual friends? We ran in very different circles, Mr. Delta Force."

"Okay, so just the bar option then," he agreed with a laugh of his own. "We would have met in a bar. I probably would have had one drink too many and said something to piss you off—"

"Or smirked at me like you did that first night at Mason Industries," she said with a roll of her eyes and a fond smile. "That would have been enough."

"You liked that, huh?" He asked with a quirked brow.

"I liked it so much that I wanted to slap that stupid smirk right off your face," she admitted with a chuckle. "It was infuriating."

"So see, we're off to a good start already," he told her with that same infuriating smirk. "I would have smirked at you, pissed you off, and you would have put me in my place in that indignant way that makes me crazy and I wouldn't have been able to resist buying you a drink or asking for your number — or _both_."

"And you think that would have worked out for us?" She asked as her mirthful amber gaze met his optimistic blue one.

"Damn straight," he answered. "I would have fumbled my way through the first date, probably. It's been a while since I took a girl on a date, but I think...yeah I think that would have worked out."

She reached out and caressed his stubbled cheek with a nod. "I think so too, and I think I would have liked that. An actual _date_ would have been nice."

His hand wrapped around hers and brought it to his lips. "Then we'll make it happen. You get the house sorted out and deal with the craziness of re-entry and then we'll make a date. An actual real date."

The amount of affection that filled her in that moment was unreal. He was willing to wait for her to be ready, he _wanted_ a chance to get it right, and he was expecting their future to happen _right now_. It relieved pressure she didn't even know she was feeling.

"God, I love you," she told him as she wrapped her arms around his middle and then moved herself closer to him. She pulled his lips to hers for an intrusive kiss before she pulled back and pressed her forehead to his. "So much."

"The feeling is definitely mutual," he told her as he fit a hand to the curve of her neck and reeled her back in for another open mouthed kiss.

She rolled further into him and let the kiss linger and her hands wander. Pretty soon feeling his muscles through the fabric of his shirt wasn't going to be enough for her.

He pulled back from the kiss and smiled against her lips with a raised eyebrow. "We should really eat before the food gets cold."

"Oh come on, Logan," she said with a teasing pout. "This is just getting good."

He chuckled and shook his head at her. "We have plenty of time for this, Preston. Trust me."

She pressed her lips to his in a much more innocent kiss before letting out a long suffering sigh. "Sometimes I just can't control myself around you. It's entirely your fault."

He rolled his eyes but smiled warmly at her. "My fault? How is that my fault?"

"Not to inflate your ego or anything, but you're too good at this kissing thing and sometimes, when you want to be, unbearably sweet. How am I supposed to resist that?" She asked as she managed to stealthily slip her hands under the bottom hem of his shirt.

He sucked in a breath as her hands explored the ridges of his abdomen. "You're really testing my restraint here, you know that? I'm also not sure how you feel about cold Thai food."

The mention of Thai food was immediately interesting to her and simultaneously reminded her that she was _actually_ hungry. "Thai food?"

"And just like that the moments over. Nice," he said through a laugh. "Yes, Thai food."

She placed a chaste kiss on his lips before she sat up with a wink. "We'll put a pin in this for later."

"We better," he agreed as he sat up with her and laced his fingers through hers. "Come on, let's eat."

She had a lot to figure out but for now she could take a moment to enjoy a night alone with Thai food and Wyatt Logan. Two of her very favorite things. She could put off all thoughts of the house and her mother until tomorrow. She deserved a night for herself, more than one if she were totally honest. Wyatt was right. She spent most of her life living for others. She didn't have to do that anymore. For the firs time in her life, she could choose.

And tonight at least, she was choosing to focus on him.

Over dinner they talked about nothing and everything — something they never really had a chance to do before. There was always an urgent issue or a moral dilemma but now they could be themselves and that meant aimless conversation for the simple act of enjoying each other's company. It was a small but beautiful thing.

And that kiss they put a pin in? They _definitely_ got back around to it.

They'd slept together twice before but despite that everything felt new. They weren't in the bunker, or somewhere in the past. No, they were in the present and in a place that belonged to one of them. There were no other people to worry about, no concern about chairs in front of doors, or how the sound might carry. It was delicious and liberating. Somehow passionate yet comfortable. Safe yet dangerous. A perfect mess of contradictions and oxymorons.

It was undeniably _theirs._

They went long into the night, just enjoying each other, until they were too spent to do anything but curl up and pass out.

It had been a long time since Lucy felt like she could just _be_ and Wyatt did that for her. He allowed her to live in the moment and, if it were possible, she loved him even more for it.

The sunlight drifting through the blinds on Wyatt's bedroom window woke her a few hours later. She opened her eyes into Wyatt's and found him admiring her with a soft smile stretched across his lips.

"Good morning," he greeted as her bleary eyes finally focused on him.

"Morning," she replied as she shared his smile.

"I would have had breakfast ready, but you were sleeping on my arm and I didn't want to wake you," He told her with a grin.

She let out a groggy chuckle and snuggled further into him. "That's good because I don't wanna get up. You're comfy."

He pressed his lips to her forehead and she could feel his smile against her skin. "If I had to be someone's human pillow then I'm glad I'm yours."

She hummed happily and closed her eyes again. "Me too."

She felt his hand ambling idly up and down the curve of her back as he spoke again. "So, what's on the agenda today, Luce?"

Her eyes opened at the sounds of his endearment and she leaned back to meant his eyes with a toothy grin. "Luce?"

He smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "Felt right. Do you hate it?"

She smiled into a kiss and then shook her head from side to side. "No. I definitely don't hate it."

"Good," he said as he let out a nervous breath. "So, the agenda?"

She bit back a groan as she thought of the day ahead. "I should go to the house. Get it over with. The sooner I go, the sooner I can start packing it up, and the sooner I can get rid of it. I'll make sure everything is in order today and then call a realtor. Set up a meeting. That'll be enough for today, I think."

"One step at a time?" He asked as he pulled her closer to his chest.

She breathed deeply and nodded. "One step at a time. No rush. Not anymore."

"Yeah?" He asked. Her eyes were still closed but she could hear the hope in his voice and it comforted her more than he probably knew.

"Yeah. I have time and I have control. My time is mine again and I'm setting the pace that I'm comfortable with," she told him as she opened her eyes again and met his curious stare with her own confident expression. "I don't have to have everything figured out right now."

"No, you certainly don't," He said as he nodded his agreement and then placed a lingering kiss to her lips.

They'd been to hell and back and there was nothing wrong with taking some time to enjoy heaven before she had to relive it all again. There was nothing wrong with enjoying _him_. There was nothing wrong with taking all the time she needed to find herself again and there was nothing wrong with living her life however the hell she pleased. It was her choice and her life and her ghosts and demons could try to torture her all they wanted. She would fight them tooth and nail. She would fight them and find a way to move forward — _with him_.

* * *

"You didn't save me.

You didn't think I needed saving.

You didn't change me.

You didn't think I needed changing.

My wings are frayed,

And what's left of my halo's black.

Lucky for me,

Your kind of heaven's been to hell and back.

To hell and back."

* * *

**A/N: **Prompts:

"Sometimes I just can't control myself around you."

"I don't wanna get up. You're comfy."

"I would've had breakfast ready but you were sleeping on my arm and I didn't want to wake you."


End file.
